All the White Horses
by boschette
Summary: More dark and depressing stuff from me—This one is a short songfic about Jen. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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Snow can wait  
I forgot my mittens  
Wipe my nose  
Get my new boots on  
I get a little warm in my heart  
When I think of winter  
I put my hand in my father's glove...

I open my eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, plaster cracks running in chaotic snarls and odd-shaped water stains from unknown rainstorms, and I want nothing more than to close them again and wake up somewhere else. Anywhere else. The warmth of the person next to me, the stranger he's bound to be, is alarming even as I snuggle closer to ward off the early-morning chill, cupping my body into his. I'm naked under the sheet. My upper thighs are sticky. I can taste cheap tequila in the back of my throat. It tastes like shame. It makes me feel like gagging.

God, I'm so afraid to turn toward this source of warmth, to see a face I don't recognize and cinch the suspicion that I gave a piece of myself to someone whose name I can't even recall. And here they come, the age-old questions that haunt me like ghosts of my conservative grandmother: What's wrong with me? Where did I go so wrong? _What have I become?_

I think I remember who I used to be. I used to be somebody's princess. It must be one of my earliest memories, in fact. I'm three years old with a headful of white-blonde curls, and he is tall and handsome and invincible, a superhero of my very own. He holds my red-mittened hand and calls me Princess. I Ifeel/I like a princess when I'm with him. The world is a glittering wonderland of ice and snow so bright it looks blue, and we're walking through it together. I can see my breath, and when I slip I don't fall because he's got me. Daddy's got me. I love him so much it actually hurts.

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I run off where the drifts get deeper  
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown  
I hear a voice  
You must learn to stand up for yourself  
Cause I can't always be around  
He says  
When you gonna make up your mind  
When you gonna love you as much as I do  
When you gonna make up your mind  
Cause things are gonna change so fast  
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change my dear

He's breathing deeply and calmly, this stranger beside me. I am repelled by the feel of him, my back pressing into the hollow his body makes curled around mine, his warmth coursing through me as it must have hours before when he brought me back here to take from me something I don't even remember giving.

I used to be somebody's princess. I used to be somebody's friend. His face floats before me now, Jack, my Jack. How did I lose him? The how seems irrelevant because the fact remains that I did. I let go of him somewhere on my path to self-destruction. But that's not even quite true, is it? I didn't so much let him go as push him away. He tried to fix me, and I denied being broken. It got ugly. It got bitter. He got tired of it. It's been months since I've even heard his voice, the voice that used to be my touchstone, my link to a world where I felt loved, and supported, and hopeful. A world where I didn't wake up in strange rooms, staring up at cracked, stained ceilings and wondering who is beside me, and hating myself.

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Boys get discovered as winter melts  
Flowers competing for the sun  
Years go by and I'm here still waiting  
Withering where some snowman was  
Mirror mirror where's the crystal palace  
But I only can see myself  
Skating around the truth who I am  
But I know dad the ice is getting thin  
When you gonna make up your mind  
When you gonna love you as much as I do  
When you gonna make up your mind  
Cause things are gonna change so fast  
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change my dear

He's stirring in his sleep now, and I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath and wait. He doesn't wake up, and my body relaxes a little. Just a little. I'm so homesick. I'm homesick for Jack, for Grams, for the little blonde-haired girl with the red mittens who hadn't yet made any permanent mistakes.

I used to be somebody's princess. I walked hand-in-hand with a man who was closer to a god, knowing that I wouldn't fall, couldn't fall, because he wouldn't let me. Until the night that he did.

The anger in his eyes, and something else, too ... was it guilt? It should have been. He tossed me away like an old suit that doesn't quite fit anymore. My hair wasn't the same shade of blonde as it had been, and those red mittens were long gone, and maybe those simple facts made the difference in the end. Or maybe it was just that he couldn't look at me and see the knowing in my eyes any longer, the accusation that I never had the heart to voice. He must have known that I had worshipped him. He must have known that he had failed me. He had bought his own mistakes, and he didn't want to pay for mine too. That's what I tell myself, anyway.

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Hair is grey and the fires are burning  
So many dreams on the shelf  
You say I wanted you to be proud of me  
I always wanted that myself  
When you gonna make up your mind  
When you gonna love you as much as I do  
When you gonna make up your mind  
Cause things are gonna change so fast  
All the white horses have gone ahead  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change my dear  
Never change  
All the white horses

I slip out from the sheet carefully, almost an inch at a time, terrified of waking him before I'm gone. My clothes are strewn in careless piles around the cluttered floor. I put on the essentials and shove the lacy black bra into the pocket of my jeans. And then I leave without turning around. It's better when I don't see their faces. It's better not to know.

It's cold outside. Winter is in the air, riding its white horse and bringing the promise of glittering snowy days that used to hold some magic. The crisp air feels clean, and I feel dirty. I decide to walk home instead of taking a cab. Halfway to my apartment, I think about calling Jack. Maybe I'll do that. Maybe it's not too late.

_Song lyrics: "Winter" by Tori Amos_


End file.
